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Southern Belize: A Different World The Mayan women were out in force at Farmer's Market on Saturday morning, with their large families and wearing their incredibly colorful garments. Punta Gorda was really hopping, both at the market and in the town square, where a marimba band was playing for dozens of folks, many of whom were dancing up front, close to the stage. I drove into PG and parked on a busy street, then I got out to take some pictures. Within a few moments, a young guy came up to me and said, "I'll watch your car for $10." I thought to myself, "Was he really going to watch my car? And what would he do to my car I DIDN'T pay him the $10?" So I replied, "No thanks, I'm just here for a few minutes."
After taking another picture or two (and staying close to my Jeep), I hopped back in, drove five blocks away to a quieter part of town, parked on the street, and walked back into downtown, where I listened to the marimba band for a half-hour. I guess I stood out a bit – a white guy with a new Jeep, taking pictures with a nice camera – and I felt a bit out-of-place, too. In fact, I didn't see one other Caucasian as I walked around crowded-and-lively PG that morning. Nicole was right: it was a different world down here. But I think it's healthy to feel out-of-place and push yourself out of your comfort zone once in a while.
Fully sated of marimba music, I left PG around 11 a.m. and drove out to the Mayan ruins at Lubaantun, which were located about 20 miles to the northwest, nestled in the misty mountains there. The ruins aren't well-marked, so it took me a while and a few U-turns to find them. I bought some souvenirs at the Visitor Center and talked for a while to the cheerful and informative park ranger, then I strolled through the ruins. Interestingly though, the only other tourists at Lubaantun were two young women from, of all places, the University of Wisconsin, my alma mater. They were nursing students doing a six-week volunteer stint at the hospital in PG and were having a good time in Belize. In the warm, steady drizzle, we talked for about 10 minutes about State Street, Bascom Hall, the Terrace and other Badger-ish things, then I bade them good-bye and walked back to my Jeep.
Here in the misty foothills, close to where Guatemala meets Honduras, was the most remote part of Belize that I'd visit during my week-long trip. From here, I headed back north. Late that afternoon I reached the coastal village of Hopkins, where I found a primitive beachside cabin for $50/night US – again, expensive compared to lodging in the mountain towns of Belize, like San Ignacio.
Hopkins is a unique community, even by Belizean standards. It has a large population of black Garifuna Indians: descendents of African slaves who were shipwrecked here in the 1600s and later intermixed with Caribbean natives. With its black/Caribbean Garifuna culture, Hopkins is very different from Punta Gorda, which has a heavy Mayan influence – or San Ignacio, with its strong Hispanic influence – or Placencia, an American-oriented beach enclave with pricey-and-posh rentals and condos. But that's one thing that makes Belize so interesting: it's an incredible cultural melting pot.
I arose long before sunrise the next morning, strolled on the beach for a bit, then hopped in the Jeep and drove back to the International Airport in Belize City. Back to civilization! I dropped off the car there and boarded a Continental jet bound for America. After a three-hour layover in Houston, I returned to Portland late that night.
Despite a few minor "hiccups" -- oh, like a near-death and a brake failure that could've ended in catastrophe -- It had been a great trip. I really enjoyed seeing southern Belize for the first time, as well as working with the NYU students. I never could finish eating a whole habanero pepper, though. But I figured maybe that's a good reason to come back to Belize someday.
Above left: This is the Saturday Market in Punta Gorda. The Mayan women dress up in their colorful outfits for this event, the social highlight of the week. Above center: Downtown Punta Gorda is lively on Saturday mornings. Above right: In search of Mayan ruins, I had to ask for directions. Not many white folks visit this part of Belize and I got lots of curious looks. Southern Belize is very different than central Belize. It's much more rural and "Mayan" here – but the Belikin beer signs are just the same.
Above left: After several U-turns, I finally found the ruins. This is Lubaantun, which had been a major Mayan settlement 1,500 years ago. Now, though, only the stones are left. Above right: Later that day, I reached Hopkins, the heart of Garifuna culture in Belize.
Above left: My "rustic" (that's putting it kindly) beachfront cabin in Hopkins. Above center: The next morning, it's a beautiful sunrise on the coast. Above right: And later that morning back at the airport in Belize City, where my journey had begun a week earlier. So long, Belize!
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